Chapter 18 #2
I glance at Ceci, then back at him. "How do you two know each other?" I ask, directing the question at the space between them, waiting to see who claims the answer first.
Still smiling, Ceci speaks up. "From the Hamptons. He’s the neighbor who brought us the fish, and who has the adorable dog, Sam, that Alicia fell in love with." She turns back to him. "Thank you again, the kids loved it. I didn't get a chance to thank you properly before."
"The pleasure was all mine," Alexander replies, his gaze locked firmly on her. He doesn't even spare me a glance.
I study him more closely. He isn't the sixty-year-old man I’d assumed lived in that house. Not even close.
Across the room, Nate Taylor, one of my company’s oldest investors, waves at me. I have to swallow a surge of irritation, forcing my jaw not to clench. Now? Of all times?
"I need to have a quick word with Nate," I say, already hating that I’m giving Santoro even a minute alone with my wife.
"Of course," Ceci says, distractedly. But she stays where she is. The fact that she doesn't automatically come with me twists something in my chest.
I squeeze Santoro’s hand once more, harder this time, and brush a kiss against the corner of Ceci’s mouth before stepping away. The gesture is deliberate. A warning. But it doesn't ease the crawling sensation beneath my skin.
While Nate drones on about quarterly reports and new acquisitions, my attention splinters. My eyes keep dragging back to Ceci and Santoro. They are standing too close. My throat tightens with a pressure I can’t swallow down. What could they be saying that holds her interest for this long?
I register every detail of him. The dark hair, the broad shoulders filling out his black suit, the two or three inches of height he has on me, the neatly trimmed beard that gives him that polished, studied edge. I breathe out through my nose, unimpressed.
He looks like nothing more than a man who treats boardrooms like stages. And no matter how effortlessly he smiles at Ceci, or how naturally she returns it… he doesn’t stand a chance.
Still, my chest only loosens when I see her finally step away and make her way back to me. It hasn't even been five minutes, though it felt like twenty. Relief crashes through me. The moment she’s within reach, I slide my hand firmly around her waist, grounding myself in the feel of her beside me.
Exactly where she belongs.
The moment Nate finally stops talking and we resume our walk through the ballroom, I glance at Ceci.
My voice is steady, but I can't quite keep the edge from slipping into the question.
"What were you two talking about for so long?
I didn't know you knew him. I thought the neighbor was someone else. "
"Colin, please. No jealousy," Ceci replies, her tone clipped, carrying a trace of impatience. "He only asked about the kids, and I asked how he was, out of politeness. I had no way of knowing who he is in the corporate world; that's not my area of expertise."
I dip my head to brush my nose against her hair, breathing her in.
The familiar scent steadies me, softening the tension coiled in my chest. "You're right," I say, and for a moment, I actually believe it.
"I'm sorry." I press a light kiss to her forehead, a gesture that should feel like second nature.
"Come on, shall we go to our table? Dinner's about to be served. "
For the rest of the night, Ceci stays subdued. Her smiles are faint, her laughter absent. And every time I glance her way, I catch that bastard Santoro watching her. He’s subtle about it, but I notice.
A little while after the auction, I join a group of investors I’ve been trying to connect with, nursing a drink at one of the bars. Ceci stays with Felicity and Harper. It feels safe enough, until I feel a light touch on my arm.
"Oliver and Felicity are heading home. I'm going to get a ride with them. I have a headache that just won't go away."
So that's why she's been off all night. Relief and frustration war in me. I lift my hand to her temple, rubbing gently with my thumb. "You should've told me earlier, baby. I'll wrap things up quickly and we can leave together, all right?"
She shakes her head, her voice soft but firm.
"No. You stay and take all the time you need until one of them bites your bait.
I know these dinners are opportunities for you.
" She rises on her toes, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
"I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to take something for it and go straight to bed. "
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Before I can protest, she’s already turning away. I watch her cross the room, my chest tightening as she heads for the entrance.
Then I see him. Santoro.
Moving in the same direction.
A surge of heat spikes in me, the primal urge to follow, to tear him away from her.
But just as I take a step, one of the men at the bar calls my name, pulling me back into the circle.
My jaw flexes, but I force myself to remain still.
I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Oliver: Take care of Ceci.
His reply comes seconds later, a simple thumbs-up.
It should settle me. It doesn't.
I force myself to follow the conversation, adding a word here, a nod there, even a laugh when it’s expected. But my mind is already halfway across the bridge with my wife. When enough time has passed for her to be home, I check my phone.
Me: Hope you're home safe. I love you.
Ten minutes tick by. No response. My thumb hovers over the screen, restless, before I message Oliver.
Me: Did you make sure my wife got home safely?
The three dots appear almost instantly.
Oliver: She’s home safe and sound. Didn’t lay a finger on her. You can relax.
Jerk. He thinks he's so damn funny.
I linger for another hour, making the rounds and shaking hands. When I finally call it a night, I head for the entrance and wait for the valet to bring my car.
I try not to think. I just want to get home. But the images won’t stop.
Ceci’s smile when she saw Santoro, warm, open, the kind I hadn’t received all night. His eyes following her. The way they both disappeared at the same time.
Did they really only meet that once in the Hamptons? Or was that just the most digestible lie she could give me?
When the car pulls up, I tip generously and slide into the driver’s seat. My hand hovers over the ignition, then stills.
Her voice comes back to me, soft and entirely too familiar. Alexander.
First-name basis. Already.
My jaw tightens as I grip the wheel. With one hand, I dial the call and pull away from the hotel, the silence of the car suddenly feeling like an accusation.
The following section includes explicit, on-page cheating. It is part of the story’s journey, but this moment may be difficult for some readers. Please feel free to skip it if it feels overwhelming.
Maya opens the door wearing nothing but a sheer red lace babydoll.
She doesn’t even have time to part her lips before I’m on her. I kiss her hard, a desperate, punishing collision meant to drown out my thoughts, not soothe them. My hands grip her thighs and lift her, pinning her back against the wall with the full weight of my frustration.
The lace gives way under my fingers, the sound swallowed by her groans and the scrape of my teeth against her skin.
My hand slides lower, finding her already slick, already ready, and the heat of it ignites something wild and unrestrained in me.
I press in harder, keeping her caged as I fumble with my belt, freeing myself in frantic, clumsy movements.
I don’t think. I just push into her. Just the tip. A lie I don’t even pretend to believe as I sink fully inside her and fall into a brutal, relentless pace.
I don’t hear her. I barely register my own breath. Everything dissolves into white noise. All I know is her warmth, the way she tightens around me. The harder I move, the louder the guilt claws at the back of my mind—but it isn’t enough to stop me.
Not until the very edge, when instinct finally slams into me. I pull back at the last second, release spilling hot across her stomach as I pant against her neck.
I brace my palms against the wall, boxing her in between my arms. As I watch the aftermath slide down her body, something violent twists in my chest, cutting deep into a place I can’t protect.
"This was perfect," Maya whispers, her teeth grazing my ear.
Perfect. The word slices through me like a blade.
I set her down and turn away immediately, fumbling with my belt, fastening it with hands that won't stop trembling. I keep my back to her, my jaw locked tight, as the weight of what I’ve just done settles over me like ash after a fire.
“I’m going to wash up and get some rest. Are you coming?” she asks, her tone sweet, laced with a terrifying contentment.
I can’t answer. My throat is constricted, useless. I nod once, a stiff jerk of my head, and listen to the sound of her footsteps fading into the bedroom.
I stagger to the table in the corner, my legs unsteady, and pour a measure of whiskey into the first glass I find. I don't care about the label, the burn, or the bite—I just need it to hurt. I knock it back in one swallow and slam the glass onto the wood, my chest heaving as if I’ve run miles.
"Fuck!"
The word tears out of me as I drive my foot into the leg of the couch. The furniture doesn't budge. The jolt of pain up my shin is hard and meaningless, but it’s the only thing that feels real.
What the hell did I just do?
I press my hand to my face, dragging it down hard, as though I can scrape the last ten minutes off my skin. I don't carry condoms when I’m with Ceci, I’ve never needed to. I never even thought about it. And in my blind, Santoro-induced rage, I didn't think to ask Maya. I didn't think at all.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
The word becomes a feral chant, filling the still room, filling the hollow space where my reason should be. Panic sinks its claws deeper into my lungs with every breath.
I stare down at my hands. They’re shaking so badly my vision blurs around my fingers. My life, my marriage, my entire world—everything is balanced on the edge of a single reckless, unprotected choice.
I need to fix this.
I need to fix this before it all slips through my fingers. I can’t lose Ceci. I can’t lose my family. I won’t.
Maya
I wake with a smile, leaning into the warmth of Colin’s hand on my shoulder. For a fleeting second, I think he’s back for more, that he simply can't get enough of me.
But when I open my eyes, the smile falters. The room is still draped in shadows, save for the faint, clinical glow spilling from the bathroom light.
"Here. Take this," Colin says. His voice is soft, but it carries a weight that makes my stomach drop.
I blink, focusing on his hands. In one, a lone pill is pinched between his fingers. In the other, a glass of water.
"I didn't use a condom," he says, his tone devoid of the passion from earlier. "It’s Plan B. You need to take it. I found a CVS nearby."
The words slam into me, jolting me into a cold, heightened state of alertness. My heart pounds, erratic and painful. "I—I'm on the pill, Colin. And I'm clean. I haven't been with anyone else since we started this."
"It doesn't matter." He sounds calm now, almost tender, which somehow makes it worse. "Remember what we agreed on when we started? You need to take it, Maya. I can't afford the risk."
It cuts deep. To hear a man who built an empire by chasing risks—a man who thrives on bold, reckless bets—reduce me to nothing more than a liability. A mistake to be managed. A fleeting indulgence that needs to be scrubbed away.
I snatch the pill from him, sliding it onto my tongue, and grab the glass. I swallow it down with a harsh gulp of water. "There. Satisfied?"
He nods, brushing the back of his hand across my cheek like a man offering comfort he doesn't actually feel. He leans in, pressing a brief kiss to my forehead, and before I can even catch my breath, he turns away. A few seconds later, I hear the soft, final click of the apartment door.
Tears sting my eyes and spill over. It isn't grief, it’s pure, unadulterated fury.
I’m so tired of him running. Tired of him pretending this is nothing when he was just shaking in my arms. He was the one who called.
He was the one who came to my door, driven by a need he clearly can't find anywhere else.
I drag my hands over my face, wiping away the moisture until there’s nothing left but steel in my veins.
I won't let this break me. I can’t afford to lose him. Not now, not when I've come this far. I just have to make him truly see me. I have to remind him exactly why he always comes back.
I throw back the covers and push out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom.